It Wasn't Meant To Be Like This
by Svetlana Morealt
Summary: Chris has plans to go into retirement, and doing so will add complications to his relationship with Piers. The sniper is angry at the news and it causes a fight to ensue that parts them on bad terms. The day after, Piers turns up missing. Guilt struck, Chris abandons his work to search for the young ATL before it's too late. Nivanfield.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** **Hmm, this may turn out to be a new series in the making... I get the feeling it'll be longer than just a two shot.**

* * *

"So that's it, then? Just like that?"

Piers was anything but happy, smooth features curved into an angry scowl directed toward his Captain, who calmly sat in place behind his desk.

"I can't keep doing this forever, Piers. It's about time I stepped down. You'll do fine in my-"

Deft hands slammed over the top of the desk, jarring the items that were scattered across the surface. "How can you be so calm about this?! What about us? You know things won't be the same if you do this! We'll barely ever even see each other-"

"It's already done." Blunt, firm. The comment was enough to silence Piers momentarily, who stared at his Captain with betrayal and disbelief in those sharp hazel eyes. "It's been a long time coming, and things are different now. You don't need me here, Piers."

Piers tensed his jaw, fingers curled themselves over the desk under them to fold inward where they balled into fists that had his knuckles turning white underneath the fabric of his gloves. "You could have talked to me, Chris." The tone lowered just above a whisper, hitching just the slightest around the edges.

Chris actually winced at the sound, at the pain laced behind it. He already had his mind made up however, and it was all for the best. He still hated having to do that to Piers, hated hurting the younger man. But Piers had an entire life ahead of him, he could have so much more than what Chris could offer and his mind set would make him an excellent Captain in his place.

"_Fine_," Another crack outlined the singular word, and a similar shaped one appeared along the Captain's heart upon hearing it. "Fine..." Piers repeated, and pushed himself away from the desk with slow steps backward. "Have it your way. Now, the next time we get to see each other will probably be when one of us is dead. I hope you're satisfied with that... Enjoy your new life, Chris."

"Piers, wait! Don't-"

But it was too late. The sniper had already turned on his heel and left, but not before he slammed the door on his way out.

Chris sighed, and with elbows firmly planted on the desk, he placed his head atop them. It had to be done, it had to be done. For both of them. "I'm sorry, Piers." He said to the air, as though the ace could hear. Not that it would make a difference.

When Piers had left, he stormed for the locker room with hard steps. With riggings, vest, and pouches all pulled loose and put away, he grabbed his jacket and was well on his way toward the exit.

He didn't know how Chris could do it, how he could approach the matter so casually and sit there like everything was perfectly fine when it was anything but.

The moment the sniper had seated himself within his car, he pounded an angry fist over the wheel. "Damn it, Chris!" He seethed, just before he started the vehicle and pulled away without another glance back. He was angry that Chris never spoke to him about it before things were set in motion, and the way the older man had approached the subject made things even worse. Yet Piers was also upset with himself, for not turning back around and fighting to keep what was his.

He wondered if it would it have made a difference as he drove through the streets. Chris already had his mind set on the matter. Maybe it was better to stay angry and to blame the man who was his Captain for everything he just destroyed... If only to prevent the heartbreak from seeping in.

When Piers had finally reached his home, he left the car and trudged up the short walkway to step inside. He just wanted to forget the night ever happened. The jacket that he slipped off from over his shoulders was put in its proper place within the closet not far off from the main door.

Maybe Chris was right. Maybe things were better that way.

No! No, Piers couldn't accept that. His mind was in a conflict and he wasn't sure if the matter could even be approached again... Damn it all, he'd have to talk to Chris. Sort things out, if it was even possible.

The thoughts had him distracted as he sauntered toward the bedroom without any attempt to turn on the lights upon entering. Sleep sounded like a good idea, if only to be used as a temporary getaway from what had just happened.

Piers didn't see the looming figure that hovered in a corner, nor did he have the time to react when it was on him in the blink of an eye. Hands grasped a hold of the ace, only to throw him all the way across the span of the room with an inhuman strength. The collision with the shelf aligning the far wall had the room spinning as Piers sunk to the floor, broken bits of wood falling down with him. He groaned, hand instinctively reaching for his sidearm that he carried for emergencies like this, only to have the figure back on him before his fingers could even wrap over the metal. Damn, they were fast. A hand over his wrist kept him from making the attempt again as it squeezed, then twisted with an audible snap that had Piers screaming.

"Now, now. You wouldn't want me to break the other one." A voice from the dark spoke, cool and overpowering all the same. Gloved fingers made their way to his throat where they hovered just over the skin, and Piers could almost feel a smirk roll off of his attacker as his good hand clutched at the limb in hopes of prying it away before it could tighten. But they were strong, their grip unwavering. He heard a chuckle, inches from his face before those fingers closed down around his neck, cutting away the oxygen from his lungs.

"So this is the young protege... My, you've gotten yourself in quite a predicament." The voice taunted the ace. Piers was lifted off the floor by his throat, feet left to dangle as he was held in the air by a single arm. His good hand formed into a fist to pound away at the limb, but again it kept its iron hold. With limited time left, Piers did the next best thing and redirected his efforts to the assailant's face where his knuckles smashed against something that was knocked loose by the blow and skittered off to the side.

Glasses?

"That wasn't very nice," The man chided, before he dropped the ace to the floor where he collapsed to his knees, instinctively grabbing for his throat as his lungs flooded with air. "What-" Piers coughed, breath ragged as it tried to steady itself. "What are you? Who-" A backhand to the face cut off his question and knocked him over onto his side.

There was a soft hum as the figure crouched down next to the sniper, "Consider me an old acquaintance of your _self righteous_ Captain." Piers looked up at that, and hazel eyes widened the moment they landed on fiery orange suns that flared menacingly within the confines of shadows. "And you," Those strong fingers reached towards him again, cupping a tight hold over his chin. "Are just the pawn I need to bring him to me."

The reply to that was a gunshot, followed by a second and then a third until the clip ran empty, all from the sidearm that Piers had managed to pull free. Miraculously, each of the bullets managed to hit.

Yet, in the darkness, the tyrant smiled.

The gun clattered to the ground, "You-" A sudden sharp kick to the stomach sent the ace rolling across the floor, hissing at the loud crack that coincided with the blow, which he was sure were his ribs snapping under the pressure. "So much alike," Footsteps came closer, slow in the making. "Defiant." There was sound of straining leather as the shadow bent down to loom over him with a hand outstretched, fingers once again found their way around the sniper's neck where it was used to pull Piers back to his feet. One hard motion and the young ace was slammed against the wall behind him. "But such efforts are futile." This time, the grip didn't relent until hazel eyes fluttered closed into the blackness behind his lids.

The next morning, Piers was no where to be found at work, with no phone call in to explain his absence from the base. Chris had expected him to be upset, to keep his distance after what they'd discussed... But Piers never missed a day, not without a damn good reason and sure as hell not without calling in. To say the Captain was frustrated was putting things mildly. He already tried to get a hold of the sniper by calling his phone, which he'd done four times prior to the fifth he was attempting now.

Still nothing. No answer, only voicemail.

"Damn it Piers, pick up. Where the hell are you?" He spoke to the machine with a heavy sigh before he hung up. Chris moved his hands to rub at his temples as though he could will away the headache, but a knock at the door had him straighten up, "Come in," He gave the okay, and not a second later Jill slipped into the room.

"Chris."

The Captain didn't like the look she gave him. His brow furrowed. "What is it?"

Jill moved to stand in front of the desk, shifting uneasily. "So you really don't know. I wasn't sure if-"

"Jill..." Chris cut her off, brown eyes watched her suspiciously. "What are you talking about? What don't I know?"

The brunette sighed, "It's about Piers, Chris." The Captain stiffened at that. "There were reports last night from his neighbors. Several them called in about hearing gunshots from that house, and now today he turns up missing without a call of absence. I think something may have hap-"

Chris was already on his feet and storming toward the door.

Jill had to turn and follow the moment he was on the move. "Chris! Wait! What are-" She rounded the corner out of the room, but he was practically sprinting his way down the hall with a determination in his eyes. Jill sighed.

There was no stopping him.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I had a bit of a jump on my inspiration for this part, so I decided to go ahead and update this a bit earlier than planned. Slight mentions of WxC in this chapter.**

* * *

Chris hadn't stopped until he'd reached the sniper's home. The fact that it had been unlocked in itself was unnerving, Piers was never that careless.

"Piers!"

The Captain was frantic, hurriedly going from room to room while screaming for the younger man, wishing with all his being that he would hear a response. There had to be something, some way to get to him...

"Piers! Where the hell are you? Answer me, Piers!"

Chris hoped Piers was still there. Hoped he was okay and that he was still breathing. But if he was, he'd have gotten help on his own, he'd have contacted someone, anyone-

The Captain's heart hammered in his chest, pounding a quickened rhythm to his ear drums.

_Come on, Piers... Be okay._

His breath hitched as soon as he entered the bedroom and saw the shape it was in. A broken shelf someone had no doubt been thrown into, a gun on the floor.

Blood.

Chris forced himself to calm his breathing, hoping with every fiber of his will that the liquid was from the assailant. He crouched down, fingers reaching out to claim a hold over the weapon and lift it. The clip was empty, all the bullets had been used. But Piers didn't miss, he never missed...

So why wasn't he there? Why wasn't the attacker dead?

Chris turned at the sound of footsteps coming up behind him, somewhat hopeful-

Until it was Jill who came through the open doorway where she froze at the sight. "Chris..." Blue eyes swept over the scene before finding her old time friend. "Did you-"

"He's gone, Jill." There was a crack in his voice, hurt. Broken. A feeling of helplessness washed over his shoulders, coupled with a wave of guilt. He should have never let Piers storm off like that, he could have done something!

A gentle palm placed itself over his arm, pulling away the gun in his hands. "We can investigate this, try to find-"

Chris was barely listening, watching some distant place on the floor.

"No."

The brunette blinked at the response. "...Chris?"

Brown eyes found their way to her. "Go back to base. Do whatever you have to, but you're better off there." Firm, insistent. Chris needed her to do it, to keep her distance.

"But what about-"

"I'm not stopping until I find him."

Determined brown bore into confused blue. Jill sighed, "Chris, you'll need help with this."

"You can provide that. But not from here."

The brunette hesitated. "We can have the police search for samples, or take this investigation out of their hands. We need to know if that blood is his or not."

Chris gave a short nod, "I trust you to handle it. I'll call you if I find anything else."

Jill frowned, still not approving of the situation. "Chris, be careful. You can't do everything alone." She released her hold and took a step back, blue eyes watched him until she reluctantly turned and left the room.

Chris exhaled, gaze averting back to the floor. Jill didn't need to be apart of this, not again. Brown eyes slid back to what he'd seen, and he found himself reaching down to pick that up as well.

Shattered, broken. Dark lenses were in shards on the carpet, while the frame was clutched tight inside a meaty fist. Sunglasses, familiarly shaped and dropped during the middle of the night when all was covered in black. It was a coincidence, it had to be just a coincidence...

Or so he'd thought, until he caught sight of a picture partially hidden under the bed, where he recovered it with fingers that quickly flipped it over into view.

Chris swallowed at the image staring back, and for a moment he couldn't breathe as his heart twisted into a knot. The picture didn't belong to Piers, not when there was no way he could have possibly retrieved it. Chris himself had a copy that he'd burned many years ago, but he couldn't contain the shiver that ran down his spine upon seeing a younger version of himself stare back at him, vibrantly smiling as a strong arm was woven over his shoulders. Over his face was a stain of blood on the picture, coloring his image in a dark red tint.

Next to him, was the man he'd struggled against for so many years. A ghost from the past, haunting his every thought. Always whispering in his ear of memories, both of fake love and of tragedy. Chris balled his hand into a fist, crumpling the paper inside his palm. "Wesker..."

It couldn't be, it couldn't be. Not when he was dead and gone, scorched from burning lava and blown to pieces by rockets.

But there was evidence, and just enough of it.

Chris wouldn't stop searching, wouldn't stop fighting until he found Piers. Even if he had to give his own life away to do it.

* * *

Elsewhere, a steady drip of water dotted downward from the ceiling above, splashing into a small puddle the droplets had formed over time.

Piers twitched, brow furrowed itself as hazel sought to open with a blink, vision suddenly flooded by a bright burst of light. He tried to move, but found himself unable to. The moment the blur faded, sharp eyes began to take in the situation. He was sitting upright, fully naked, body strapped to a metal chair by the stomach and feet with wrists bound to the arms of the cold surface. A small tug at them had him biting at the inside of his cheek to silence himself when a jolt of pain wracked through his limb at the friction against the broken bone. His mind still hadn't sorted itself, memories took a slow time to slip out from the fog. But he remembered being attacked and subdued by a powerful shadow, too strong to ever be considered human.

Fiery orange, shimmering in the dark like ominous twin suns.

Right. It was all coming back.

A dark chuckle from behind stirred him from such thoughts as he stiffened at the sound of footsteps when they rounded to his front. Hazel grew a size larger, now able to see the tyrant fully under the rays of light from above. Blond hair, coated in layers of gel that held it perfectly brushed back without a single loose strand. Newly restored sunglasses over older, handsome features that curved themselves into a satisfied smirk at the sniper's expression. Piers didn't know the man, not personally... But he'd seen files and photos, heard about the crimes that the tyrant committed from Chris.

Piers felt his good hand close into a fist. "Wesker." The name tasted bitter on his tongue after all the things he'd been told, after how badly the blond had hurt Chris in earlier years. Piers used to wish he'd been there to help during the hardships of that time, but that didn't mean he wanted the tyrant to be alive and well, standing before him in a predicament like this.

In an instant, a closed fist was at his face to jar his head to the side, bottom lip cracked wide open at the contact. At the taste of crimson, Piers spit to the side before turning back to the man standing over him with hazel eyes narrowed.

Boot clad feet started a slow circle around the chair, stopping the moment the tyrant was behind the bound ace. Gloved hands placed themselves atop bared shoulders, leather stretching as the grip tightened enough to bruise.

Piers winced, "What do you want with the Captain?" Aside from the obvious reasons. Wesker could have easily targeted Chris the same way, there had to be a reason behind his capture. Not that he wanted his Captain put in danger... Even after their last conversation. "I thought you were more dead set on global domination?"

Wesker strengthened his hold until the ace was biting his tongue. "Such is an inevitable occurrence that will take place in due time." The hands retracted, and Piers inhaled deeply at the removed pressure until his head was suddenly yanked back by fingers in his hair, forcing his neck to tilt in an awkward angle so the madman behind him could see his features. "Christopher on the other hand, has been quite the thorn in my side." The unoccupied fingers from the opposite arm trailed down the exposed neck, and from all the stories he was told in the past, Piers knew it wouldn't take much for the blond to tear out his throat if he wanted to. "You see, I've kept close track of his exploits and encounters. I'm well aware of your.." Strong digits slid upward, gloved lengths slipped themselves between full lips to latch a hold over the smooth tongue. "_Intimacy_." The word was spat with a coating of venom lacing around its edges.

Piers tensed against the bindings, sharp hazel held firm to sunglasses, boring into unseen eyes. A smirk outlined the blond's features, "Harming you will cause him a greater torment than pain to his own body." At those words, Piers half expected the tyrant to deliver a blow to his chin that would force him to bite off his own tongue. Surprisingly, the grip relented instead.

Piers rotated his jaw, the taste of leather still heavy in his mouth as his neck craned itself back into a normal position. "We didn't exactly part on the best terms. He might not even show up." Piers didn't really believe that of course. Chris was too selfless to abandon him to a fate like that. If the Captain found out that Piers had been abducted, he wouldn't just let that go.

Wesker rounded back to the front of the chair. "I think we both know better than to believe that. Christopher wouldn't dare to leave you in my clutches." The blond was examining one of the sniper's hands now.

Piers perked up at the comment, "He knows about you? How-"

"A small gift, from a time long before you were involved." There was a grip over the ace's finger, then a loud snap as it was bent backward and twisted simultaneously. A pained outcry from Piers ensued as the digit was pulled, lean body tugging against the restraints as it was completely severed from his hand by the raw strength of the man before him.

Another deep chuckle resounded from Wesker, feline eyes gazed from behind darkened shades at the squirming from the younger man. Fiery orange dipped lower to the contours of the sweat glossed chest, watching as it rose and fell in a quickened pace in tune with the pained noises the sniper elicited.

A gloved hand tightened over the detached finger that Wesker held in his palm.

"And now, I believe I have another to send him."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: So, more Piers abuse in this one. Wesker, you can be such an asshole. :c**

* * *

Time passed by and still there was nothing.

Blood samples had been sent in for testing, and there had even been a missing persons notice sent out to everywhere it could be placed. They needed a sign, however small it may have been. An indication, _anything_, to where Wesker may have been keeping Piers.

But nothing had come up.

Chris was restless, continuously making calls - the sniper's neighbors, his family, the damn police. No one had seen anything, the closest they'd gotten was the reported gunshots that had led Chris to the ace's household in the first place. Everywhere was a dead end, and he should have known better.

Wesker wouldn't leave his tracks uncovered.

Chris had even gone back to base, hoping that he could have done something from there. It wasn't until Jill had come in and insisted that he go home, that she could handle things from there because he was letting his emotions conflict with the search.

He was also exhausted. Jill wasn't wrong in pressuring him.

Chris pretended to give in, to stop his search for the night, but Jill knew better. She'd even warned him what could happen, but he'd shrugged it off and left the building.

Now, he was on his way home. There had to be something he could do from there. Damn it - he couldn't just let everything go! Piers was in danger the longer he stayed with Wesker. There was no way to tell what the blond would do to him over the time it took Chris to act and make progress.

His mind was a whirl, images and ideas formed throughout his head but there were always questions without answers, details without clarity. He'd hardly been focused on driving, but he managed to get home safely before he even realized it. Upon exiting his car, Chris nearly slammed the door in aggravation but contained himself and settled for storming up the small sidewalk to his house. He hated being clueless and left in the dark, especially when someone's life was in danger.

But it wasn't just someone. It was _Piers_.

Chris still recalled the last thing he'd said to him.

_"Now, the next time we get to see each other will probably be when one of us is dead. I hope you're satisfied with that."_

Chris wished he could take it all back. All the pain, the arguments. Right now, all he wanted was to bring Piers home and forget everything that happened.

The moment he stepped inside, something felt wrong.

There was an unfamiliar ringing from somewhere in the living room. It wasn't his phone; house _or_ cell.

As the door slid shut, heavy foot falls resounded. Chris made his way forward into the main area where he paused. The noise came from the glowing screen that sat atop the coffee table in front of the couch.

It belonged to Piers.

Chris practically sprinted over to answer it, immediately placing the speaker of the phone to his ear. A familiar chuckle met him, and a chill ran down his spine upon hearing it. He'd sought to wash away that sound from his head for years in the making, and the closest he'd come to doing so was the night in that volcano.

Chris had thought the nightmare was over then.

Yet, now it was back.

* * *

Darkness all over again, it was acting like a best friend to the ace. Always there, always blocking out the pain.

Until it left, and he felt cold. Alone.

Hazel eyes fluttered open to see the room empty. Wesker was no where to be found, but it didn't take long for Piers to register that he'd been moved from the chair. His muscles ached from the position he'd been forced to sit in for he didn't know how long. He was on his knees, arms outstretched in upward angles and chained to stone pillars that were about as wide as his midsection. His legs were bound together and attached to the floor by a bolted down ring that the chain had been slipped through to prevent him from scrambling away.

As reality started to settle in, a heavy stinging sensation passed over his cheek and eye, where Piers was sure that one of the blood vessels managed to pop from the blow he'd received. Meanwhile, his hand throbbed at the absence of his finger. At least it had been wrapped with gauze to prevent too much bleeding and possible infection, but Piers surmised that Wesker had every intention of keeping him alive as long as possible; if only to hurt him more. His head pounded up a storm - previously, he had been left to squirm around in the chair for a few minutes until Wesker knocked him out and relocated him.

Although it was unlikely for him to manage it given his current predicament, Piers needed to get out of there before Chris fell right into the trap. Wesker would never let either of them loose once they were both in his clutches. There had to be a way, no matter how small his chances were of pulling it off.

Piers coughed with a suddenness, only then realizing just how dry his throat felt from after the screaming earlier. He pulled at the new bindings, looking for some weakness in their making, yet as the minutes ticked by; he found none.

Somewhere behind him a metal door creaked open, and he paused his movements to listen. It wasn't long before boot clad feet neared him and circled around to his front. Hazel eyes raised themselves upward to tinted shades with a scowl. Wesker paid no attention to it as he crouched down and lifted what was held in his hands so it was clean within view.

It looked like some sort of whip, yet it was... _Different_. The end of it broke into three different parts, thick and durable like they were some sort of bone. Piers stiffened on the spot, but kept his gaze held strong.

"Magnificent, isn't it?" Wesker queried as he rotated the weapon so the tips dangled inches away from the ace's face, sharp and dangerous all the same. "You see... The ends were taken directly from a Tyrant's hand, making it an efficient weapon for eliciting pain to the human body." Piers eyed the menacing curves that angled near the end of each claw. It looked like they wouldn't even require much effort for the things to tear through flesh. Piers wasn't stupid, he knew what Wesker planned to do. He could feel his own heart hammer in his ears with a sudden increased pace.

He was a soldier, he could endure.

He wasn't exactly given a choice in the matter, anyway.

That's what he thought, up until Wesker had pulled himself away to wander off behind him again. He heard a skitter somewhere over his shoulder, the sound of the whip unwinding itself in preparation as it hit the floor. The swish of it cutting through the air came first.

But then just like that, he was screaming again.

Sharpened tips tore through sinews of muscle to draw blood along his back in marks of three, and Wesker was far from finished. Another swing had his body jolting forward, the most Piers could do to try and distance himself but it did little to numb the pain as his flesh was shredded. Each snap of the whip directed itself lower until open wounds marred along his skin down to his tail bone, where a last crack had the claws tearing over his derriere.

Tears started to dot at the corners of his eyes, but stubborn defiance would not allow them to fall. Piers bit his lip until it bled and he tasted iron on his tongue. He didn't hear the sound of stretching leather behind him as he attempted to focus his attention on silencing his cries. A gloved hand extended to clench a full hold over a tender ass cheek, torn from the last blow. The friction had Piers unwillingly whimper in protest under the touch.

"There was one thing that I was always so unsure of..." Wesker started to say from behind him as the other hand circled around, armed with one of the claws of the whip in its grasp. "Did his rank and age allow him control over you?" A thumb pressed itself into the parted flesh of his cheek, and the sniper just barely bit back another whine. "Or was it you that took care of Christopher? Mended my hold over him?" The tip of the claw nudged itself against his flaccid penis, and hazel eyes widened with a gasp, suddenly frantic about what Wesker may have planned to do. The pressure started to intensify, and Piers honestly prepared for the worst.

An unexpected beep cut through the air, causing the blond to retract with a seemingly annoyed sigh at the interruption. There was a brief shifting of clothes, and then a soft click before the blond spoke.

"What is it?" A pause, then an inquiring hum. "Earlier than expected," Without so much as a goodbye, he cut off whoever was on the other end of the phone before dialing a different number. "It would appear that your Captain has returned home... I believe it's time we say hello." Another click and the sound of a dial tone filtered through the room; the device was on speaker. Someone picked up on the other end, and they weren't given a chance to talk before Wesker's dark chuckle resounded.

"Christopher... It's been too long, hasn't it?"

The reply was immediate, and Piers could have cried at hearing the voice again. "Wesker, you son of a bitch! Not long enough! Where's Piers? What the _hell_ did you-"

"Now, now," The blond warned, "I hardly think you're in any predicament to be so foul mouthed. Especially in front of your young protege."

Chris seemed to jump at that, suddenly more worried than angry. "Piers? Piers, are you there?!"

"Captain!" Piers practically choked on the word, his voice hoarse from the overuse due to all the inflicted pain.

"Piers! God, I'm so sorry I got you caught up in this! What did he do to you? Are you hurt?" The questions came out hurried, pain and guilt laced over each word. "It's good to hear your voice again. I was worried, I thought Wesker might have..." Chris couldn't even finish the sentence.

Hurt was an understatement. Piers had felt his back ache with every intake of breath and brush of air over the tender wounds. They throbbed deep, and the ace knew there were trickles of blood that flowed out from each one. "I'm alive," Chris didn't need to know what Wesker had done, or what the sniper looked like now for that matter.

There was a pause on the other end, and Chris wasn't sure what to say in return. Guilt boiled in his heart twice as hard, he was responsible for whatever was being inflicted onto the younger man.

Piers inhaled, "Captain, don't play his games. There's no way he's going to let both of us walk! Don't-" The words were cut off by a heart wrenching scream as Wesker impaled his left hand against the pillar it was bound to, directly through the palm with one of the claws.

"Piers!" He could barely hear Chris over his own wails, "Goddamn you, Wesker! I'll _kill_ you!"

Wesker didn't appear at all bothered by the threats, "Listen to those screams, Christopher. Let them serve as a punishment for everything you destroyed. We've only just begun," That was all the blond allowed before he hung up the phone, leaving Chris to his own guilt on the other end. Orange suns flared with hatred as they returned to the ace. As a last thought to pour salt into the wound, another click from the phone had captured a picture. Wesker didn't hesitate to send it to Chris, he wanted him to know every bit of agonized torment he planned to inflict on the sniper. He circled around for another, specifically an image of the crimson gashes embedded into the ace's back.

Chris would regret every hindrance that he had previously caused to his plans.

The phone was put away once he finished, and Wesker gripped a hold over the claws. As a second thought, instead of pulling the invading one free that kept the sniper's hand pinned painfully in place, Wesker tore it loose from the whip so that it could remain where it was. Piers was already bound and restricted, the claw wouldn't help him any given his position.

The blond sauntered out of the room with a feeling of satisfaction as the door closed behind him, leaving Piers in solitude where he had no company other than the pain and the sound of his own screams.

* * *

Chris kicked over the coffee table with a crack as it broke, all in an outburst after Wesker cut him off. Piers was there, still in the devil's clutches and in pain. He was hurting, _suffering_, all because of Chris.

The overwhelming sense of guilt was back along with a feeling of hopelessness. He was powerless. He had no way to know where Wesker was keeping Piers and as such, he also had no way to save him.

There was a beep from the phone he'd nearly thrown across the room in anger, and he hesitated to look at it. The moment he gave in and did, he felt something coil around his heart and squeeze it to mush.

Piers.

He looked terrible - normally spiked locks were out of place over his forehead, matted down by a sheen of sweat glossed over his skin. His eyes were bloodshot, and one in particular had a popped vessel that made him look in even worse shape, followed by the darkened area around the socket. His features were pained, bruises marked along his skin, more on his face than anywhere else. His lip bled, no doubt from biting it all in thanks to everything Wesker did to him.

A second beep had Chris worried, and upon looking, the feeling was not misplaced. His stomach churned at the sight of his lover's mutilated back and he nearly got sick. He was a soldier, he was used to the blood and gore out on the field; but this was _Piers_, and those wounds were caused because of _him_! His breathing hitched, and he tightened his grip on the phone with an unsteady hand.

"Fuck, Piers, I'm sorry... I'm _so fucking sorry_."

A sudden knocking on the front door did nothing to help his mood. Chris didn't answer at first until the pounding turned frantic. Reluctantly, he turned to walk over to the sound and opened the way into his home.

Jill.

She was wide eyed, worried. "Chris! The results of the blood tests came in. You're going to want to hear this."

Right. He knew where this was going.

Chris stepped back from the door and returned to the living room with Jill on his heel, who froze in the doorway at the state of the table. "What happened?"

"What did you need to tell me?" The Captain evaded the question.

Jill sighed, "The blood didn't belong to Piers, Chris. I don't know how, but... The tests showed that it was-"

"-Wesker's." Chris finished for her, and blue eyes widened further at his knowledge of their former Captain's involvement.

"How did-"

"I found a picture in the bedroom before I left Piers' house. It was taken back during our time in S.T.A.R.S. before we knew who Wesker really was." A slight furrow appeared on Jill's brow as Chris continued. "When I got back here, this was sitting on my table." He held up the phone for her to see, "It belongs to Piers. Wesker called and he was there with him, but... _God_, Jill. He's going to kill Piers and it's my own damn fault!"

Jill's features softened, and she approached with a hand extended to rest on his shoulder, "Hey, you said he was there. That means he's still alive, we have time to save him. We just need to figure everything out. None of this is your fault. You know how sadistic Wesker is... But Chris, you should have told me about the picture sooner, maybe we could have thought of something." She withdrew her hand, "We'll find him. Just don't shut me out, I want to help with this."

Chris shook his head, "Jill, you were already too involved in this before. I can't risk him-"

Jill didn't hesitate to interrupt him, "Stop right there. We were partners once, Chris. Before that, Wesker was our Captain. I'm not sitting on the sidelines while you deal with this alone."

Chris released a heavy exhale. He would need the help, but if she was caught... "You know how dangerous he is and what he can do." He warned.

"Only too well. After Africa..." Jill frowned, "Chris, I need this as much as you do."

There was a brief pause, "...All right."

The brunette looked slightly satisfied, "Good. No more keeping me in the dark." When Chris nodded in reply, she extended her other hand out to him. Within it, was a small box. "This came for you not long before I left. Someone dropped it off at the base."

Chris hardly looked interested, but took it anyway and seated himself on the couch. Jill followed and placed herself next to him, not wanting to leave him just yet. Chris made sure to avoid touching the box, and Jill eyed him for it. "It might be a clue, Chris."

There was a soft snort from the Captain, "You really think Wesker would care to send us one?"

The brunette shrugged, "He's got to guide you to him somehow if he wants revenge, right?"

Chris seemed to consider the words, and with a defeated sigh, he pulled open the lid.

He nearly dropped the container.

"Jill, get the gauze from the cabinet in the bathroom. Fast!" Chris sprung to his feet in an instant and headed into the kitchen.

Jill blinked, "Chris, what-"

"Now, Jill! Please!"

The brunette was on the move as soon as the words came out. His tone was rushed, worried - _desperate_, even. She did as instructed, and returned to see him rinsing something under the water from the sink. "I've got it, what are-" She inhaled sharply as he turned around, blue eyes immediately caught sight of the severed finger.

Chris wasn't wasting any time. He took the gauze from her to dampen it with cool water and wrapped it over the digit. After grabbing a plastic bag to stuff it inside, he put it on ice. He did everything so quickly, Jill had barely registered what happened.

"Chris..."

"It's his, Jill. It's his goddamn ring finger." Distress was clearly written over his features.

"How do you-"

"There's a scar along the side of it. He got it eight months ago tearing a shrapnel out of my shoulder." Chris had a tremble to his voice, but he tried to balance it so he didn't show just how much everything bothered him.

Jill saw right through it as she always did. "We'll fix it, Chris. We'll find a way."

Brown eyes closed themselves tight, "We won't find him in time for them to reattach it."

Jill didn't say anything. There was no advice to offer, no more reassurances to give. Only the simple truth that; he was probably right.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Eeek, the delay on this one was longer than planned. Apologies! D:  
**

* * *

Piers had gotten used to the fact that he would never sleep normally while in the arms of the enemy, and the only state of rest that was given was when he lost consciousness. He wasn't sure how long it'd taken him to black out, but once he had it was a temporary reprieve from all that he'd just endured. Not that waking up made things any better, he could still feel the gashes across his skin with every intake of breath and subtle movement. His hand throbbed against the pillar, always hurting no matter what he did, but he didn't have the strength to try and pry it free himself with only one arm; there was no way he could reach far enough in the restraints to use his other one. He was trapped with no where to go and nothing there to lessen the pain.

Yet, all of his thoughts went to Chris. He knew what his Captain would do, knew that he wouldn't stop searching for him even after their argument. Piers wished that he'd just forget him; he wished that Chris would keep his distance and stay out of harm's way. Even if it cost Piers his own life or further agony, if it meant Chris would be safe... He could endure. That's what he kept telling himself.

Piers didn't know how long it took before the door to the room opened itself again, and this time it was more than one set of footsteps heading towards him, it was closer to... Three?

A hand curled itself in his hair again and tilted his head back with a sharp yank that had him groan in reply, eyes fluttering under the rays of light from above. The two figures that had followed in behind Wesker moved to either side of him, and one coiled their fingers around the tyrant's claw, cruelly twisting it before he carelessly plucked it loose and tore a scream from the sniper. His world was a blinding barrier of pain, Piers could hardly focus his mind on anything but that as the guards undid the chains after one of them had first bandaged his hand in a sloppy manner, just enough to still the bleeding.

Wesker released his fingers from short strands as the men tugged Piers to his feet, only for him to collapse instantly to his knees in front of them. Another sharp pull forced him into a stagger, giving him little choice but to try and walk along with them, or be dragged across the way instead. Their hold was tight, too much for him to slip away in his weakened state, and even if he could have mustered it, the blond was never far behind. Hazel eyes blinked as he was led toward a small table, shorter than the length of his own figure and covered over with a layer of salt. He swallowed at the sight, body already aching. His muscles tensed and he tried to twist back or pull away - to do _something_ to prevent it - but he was in no condition to fight. The men swung him around and practically tossed him down onto the surface, flat on his back where a large majority of flesh wounds were located. The result was an instant scream, loud and lengthy as Piers tried to move only to be held down where his arms were forced into new restraints that had his hands pulled above his head toward the corners of the table. Each of his struggles only made the salt grind itself deeper into his already tender wounds, inflicting further pain into open gashes.

Piers was on fire, body a burning mass that had him yelling long past the time his throat had grown sore. His legs were next to be tied down, bent in upward curls and spread wide open to encase him in a greater state of vulnerability. His cries never stopped, never waned or died off as he thrashed in the chain bindings, desperate for a way out until a hand was under his chin, holding his head still as Wesker leaned in to eye him. Hazel pricked with tears at their corners, leaking down the sides of his face to openly humiliate him. There was a chuckle from the blond, and a thumb dipped itself forward over his parted lips to hush him until his sounds lowered to soft whimpers and his struggles were dimmed down to light tugs. Wesker flashed a sinister smirk that had the sniper shuddering as a result. "It only gets worse, I assure you."

Piers fought to control his ragged breathing and the noises that slipped through between them, "You're a sadistic bastard." He managed to croak under the thumb at his mouth, and the hand soon left him.

Wesker hummed thoughtfully, "I believe Christopher once said the same while previously in my clutches. Do say hello to him," A gloved finger positioned itself to aim toward the sniper's right, and Piers furrowed his brow in confusion before he took the chance of looking. There - not too far away. A camera was set up and focused directly onto him, capturing every inflicted wound, every whine that the pain had tugged from his vocal cords. Piers swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing in place as gloved fingers curled under his chin to direct his gaze back to Wesker with a sharp tug. "I believe it's only fair to keep him updated on your current state of being."

Hazel eyes narrowed as they met with concealed orange that flashed from behind tinted lenses. Despite the constant pain, Piers held firm, resolve unbroken. He wouldn't let Wesker ruin him; not there, not now. Especially not in front of a damn camera that recorded footage the tyrant intended to send to Chris. In the end, Piers wasn't sure if it would matter to Wesker if his sanity crumbled to pieces, just as long as his Captain's did. Piers... Piers fully expected to die down there. Wherever 'there' was. It was the impact that it would have on Chris that worried him - would he mourn for him, would he cry and long to be with him? Or would he move on to something new, something _better_ that awaited him?

Piers couldn't stand the idea of either one.

He was torn from his thoughts by a sudden pop and sizzle off to the side. Hazel eyes drifted past the blond's shoulder where one of the guards had disappeared to. He reemerged with a rod in hand, the tip was flattened into the form of a star and it flared from the heat of a fire. Each step had the man edging closer until he was positioned between the sniper's legs where the rod was held up. Piers tugged at the restraints in a renewed effort, and Wesker forced the sniper's head toward the opposite side so his face was in clear view of the camera as the metal was lowered. Piers couldn't clearly see it from the new position, it was a dim view in his peripheral vision that was partially blocked by the hand that held his head in place. Seeing wasn't necessary as he felt the approaching heat the closer it came to him.

Piers grunted, arms still twisting and turning in their binds under the false hope that he could wiggle free. It was quick to die down when a searing heat placed itself tight to his exposed thigh, tearing a pained cry from the depths of his throat as he thrashed to no avail, body trapped firmly in place to be thoroughly abused. "There is a lesson I'm afraid you've come to learn too late," Wesker taunted from his side, hand still in place over his jaw while Piers tried to squirm under the unrelenting burning sensation that had his skin sizzling under the heat. "Christopher has tendencies to lose those who get too attached to him." Piers had barely heard him through the sound of his own screams, thigh aching as the flesh was melted away. He could feel it boil under the pressure as the heated surface seared at him and left an intense throb that ate at his sanity.

The rod withdrew, a temporary reprieve until it placed itself to the inner side of the opposite leg, causing the sniper's struggles to renew as he openly cried under the agonizing burn. Any tears that had yet to fall slid from the corners of closed hazel, salty rivulets painted a wet trail over olive skin that cringed, even as the metal was pulled away a second time. The burning was still present, an overpowering thrum that ached and throbbed. As the screams died down into whimpers and heaving breaths, the hand under the sniper's chin forced his head to angle back toward the blond where his eyes fluttered, wet and blurry from the fallen tears.

Wesker hummed thoughtfully, "Do you believe he'll still desire you, should you survive?" He queried as older features hovered only inches away. "After your body becomes so torn, so _mangled_ that he won't be able to recognize it?"

Hazel eyes turned toward the ceiling, avoiding the blond the best they could as Piers struggled to stifle his sounds and slow his breathing, his body trembling in his restraints. Was that what Wesker intended for him? Ruin him, disfigure him beyond recognition so that he would become too grotesque for anyone to enjoy? Piers couldn't contain the shudder at the thought, his mind processing the idea that Wesker had laid out for him. What would Chris do? Would he abandon him like he intended to the moment he told Piers about his planned retirement?

The sniper didn't want to think about it.

Wesker withdrew his hand to motion toward the soldiers. In a patter of footsteps, they retracted out through the door they'd come through. The blond stepped back, feet guided him to the fire that burnt away at several metal shards, each of a different size and shape. A gloved hand gripped over one, unconcerned about the heat coursing through the metal that burnt at the leather of his palm as it was pulled free. Wesker turned to stride back over toward the bound sniper, the rod in hand was pointed at its tip and he held it upward, clear within view of both Piers and the camera. "Shall we find out?" The tip was raised inches above abdominal muscles. It lifted, edged toward the heaving chest cavity that glistened with sweat.

Piers tensed, pearly whites clenched tight against each other as hazel glared at the older man. He was a soldier; he could take it, _he could take it_... "You want to know the best part of this?" Piers choked out, voice hoarse and barely his own. "One way or another, he'll find you. Maybe I can't kill you like this..." He swallowed, his breathing finally managed to slow just slightly. "But he sure as hell will." Piers lifted his head up from the table, putting their faces closer together. "You know why?" He was digging his own grave, "Because just like the last time you fought, he'll find a way to ruin everything you think you've built. If you were the god you claim to be, you'd have succeeded a long time ago." Gloved fingers visibly tightened over metal, and the ace forced a curve to the corners of his lips. "Instead, you were humiliated by someone you consider _insignificant_. Tell me how that one works."

A hand closed itself over the span of his throat, squeezing while it forced his head back against the table. Wesker craned forward, teeth bared as he hovered near the ace. "What does a sniper cherish the most?" The rod hovered just above hazel in an instant, causing sharp eyes to water further from the sudden heat so close to Piers' vision. The metal was stabbed downward, centimeters from his cheekbone as gloved fingers urged the sniper's left eyelid to stay open, "Would you have any worth without your sight?" The blond hissed, observing the tension from the younger man. "I could tear your eyes from their sockets with only my fingers. What do you believe Christopher would think of that if I had them sent to him?"

Piers tugged against the chains binding him at the wrists, "Go ahead," He goaded, trying to strengthen his resolve as the words were forced out from behind the tightened hold over his wind pipe. "I'm already dead anyway, right? That's all another part of your plan," He could feel the intensity of heat from the rod embedded into the table such a small distance away, burning at his cheek uncomfortably.

Wesker was tense, bordering at the edge and ready to take away those pretty hazel gems. He had to stop himself moments from actually doing so, and retracted the hand held near the sniper's eye. "Not quite yet," He spat, pulling away from Piers completely to retrieve the burning rod. Piers opened his mouth to form a reply, but all words were replaced by the ensuing scream that followed after the contact of the rod against his chest muscles. The sharp tip nudged open his flesh, digging in deep where the wounds were molded shut from the heat as the rod trailed down to his stomach, leaving a burning mark behind that steamed and sizzled.

Wesker wasn't finished. There was still plenty in store for the ace, and he wanted him to be able to witness it as the pain was inflicted. Then at the end of it all, he would return the body to Chris in broken pieces.

* * *

Chris hadn't slept all night, not after everything that happened. He was overwhelmed by guilt and regret, with helplessness not far behind. They hadn't found any further news or evidence that could lead them to wherever Wesker had taken Piers, no one had seen a thing the night before outside of the sound of gun shots, and they already covered that.

Jill had gathered up her laptop from her car and insisted on staying to help, given how stressed Chris was over the current situation. They ran over the little bit of info they had; which wasn't much at all. Jill even went to the lengths of searching different traffic cams in the nearby area, but none of them were useful. They were too far out from the sniper's home to be of any real aid. The tyrant could have taken Piers anywhere.

Eventually, Chris relented to showing Jill the images Wesker had sent. The brunette copied them to her laptop to analyze the background in hopes that there would be something that could give them an indication of where Piers was being held. But to her dismay, there was little beyond a room lit only by a single light and minimal devices laying around in the back. No windows, which suggested that they could have been in a basement or something of the like. The walls were smooth and clean, the building was in good shape at least on the inside. No furniture or posters, nothing that could be of any real help.

Wesker was toying with them.

Jill sighed and closed her laptop, "Chris, I'm sorry but I don't think there's much else we can do from here. I've tried what I can, but... Chris?" The brunette straightened in her position on the couch. Chris was at the other end, staring in a far off corner. He looked utterly exhausted. "Chris, hey." Jill reached out a palm to rest it against his back.

Chris didn't bother to turn towards her. "We've got nothing, Jill, and Wesker knows it. Right now, he can do whatever he wants and-" He cut himself off, unable to continue the train of thought.

"It's not over yet," Jill insisted next to him, "It's still early. I can go back to base again and see if I can't find something from there. You... Chris, you're dead on your feet. You can't tear yourself up like this, it's not your fault."

Brown eyes swung around to meet blue at that, with a sudden narrow to them. "_Isn't_ it?" Chris stood up, causing Jill's hand to fall away as he stepped toward the center of the room and avoided the ruined table he'd tossed over the night prior. "That son of a bitch targets anyone I get close to. If Piers and I never... Wesker would have just came for me. He's hitting every nerve that he can find, and damn it, it's working!"

Jill moved her computer from it's position at her lap and rested it down on the cushion by her side so she could rise to her feet as well. "You didn't know. We all thought he was dead after Africa."

Chris started to pace, suddenly feeling overly confined. He had to move, had to do something to keep him from losing his mind. "I broke things off the night he went missing." The need to confess plagued him after his recent loss. "We argued... And Piers stormed out of my office. I should have stopped him, Jill. I could have done something." He slowed to a halt, practically panting in place as the air around him suddenly felt too thin. "If I didn't do that, we'd have gone home together. Wesker never would have..." His body shook, nerves aching far beyond what he could control. Chris tightened his jaw as his hand closed into a fist. He turned with an outcry and swung, where his knuckles met the frame of the wall and left a dented imprint. "I could have prevented it from happening." Chris spun around to place his back to the same surface he'd just abused and slid down it into a sit at the floor.

Jill stepped over to her old friend and crouched beside him, features curved in a sad but understanding look. "We'll get him back, Chris." Perhaps it wasn't a promise she could keep, but damn it if she wouldn't try. Chris had done everything he could to find her when she needed it, the least she could do was return the favor by helping him search for the missing sniper. "We don't give up, remember?"

Chris eyed her with a half lidded gaze, "Africa was different. There were clues and places I knew I had to get to, but right now, we don't have anything and I don't... I don't know what to do." Currently, there was nothing he _could_ do.

"We'll figure it out, we just need more time-"

"Piers doesn't _have_ time, Jill!" Chris snapped, "You saw what Wesker did to him!"

"Then I don't know what to tell you!" Jill paused to lower her voice after it momentarily increased to match the Captain's. "I'm sorry, Chris. But right now, all we can do is wait it out until we find more Intel. I said I could go back to base and see if I can't come up with something. I will. In the meantime, you need to stay here. Keep that phone close in case Wesker tries to contact you again." She reached out to pat her old partner on the knee in a poor attempt to reassure him. "Chris, you're exhausted, you should try to rest for a while. Let me do some digging."

Brown eyes turned away from blue, "How am I suppose to rest when he's still out there?"

"Because he needs you," The reply was instantaneous, "You can't help him if you're too burnt out." Jill lifted herself back into a stand. "Call me if you need me, Chris. You can pull through this, and so will he." She hesitated to go, feeling uncomfortable with leaving Chris alone in such a state, but time was being wasted. If she could help find the missing ace, everything would be back to normal again. Chris would be okay. She stepped aside to head back toward the entrance, and the Captain did little to stop her as the door slid closed behind her.

Chris reached a hand into his pocket to retrieve the cell, and he eyed the blank screen for a lengthened period of time as though he could will it to ring. He needed to hear something, to _know_ what was going on. He hated being left in the dark, and he had no idea what was happening to Piers; he just wanted his lover back so he could apologize for everything and whisper sweet nothings into those short strands that would tuck themselves beneath his chin. Chris would help to soothe away all the pain and all the aches, so that they could rebuild themselves together and return to their lives; normal and whole. But life wasn't so forgiving, and Chris was stuck in a dead end.


End file.
